


I'm So Hung Up On You

by InfiniteFreedom



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Fluff, G!P, Intersex, THANKS to Blackrising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 19:43:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6920470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteFreedom/pseuds/InfiniteFreedom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Shut up.” Root smacks her on the shoulder and Shaw laughs, wagering that it’s plausible for a bunny to have more muscle than her.</p><p>“If you do.”</p><p>Root smirks, and Shaw backtracks, thinking of what the next words coming out of the girl’s mouth could be.</p><p>“Would you rather my mouth was otherwise occupied Sam?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm So Hung Up On You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blackrising](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackrising/gifts).



> For Blackrising, because I've wanted to do this for a while and I just never got around to it.
> 
> Thanks for the inspiration!

It’s slow, subtle, sneaky. Until this day, Shaw still isn’t able to explain how it happened, exactly, but that wouldn’t be the first time.

.

They’re 16 years old and Shaw has just won a major track race that offers her the opportunity to both attend a very good college in the near future and also participate in the Nationals. Shaw has always had a knack for running, and when that gun sounds it’s no different. Every time she runs on the track, it feels like her father is right there next to her, just as they used to sprint down the fields back at home when she was younger.

.

She tells Root once, about her father, while they’re waiting for Reese to exit the hospital. They’re sitting on the bench, and Root has a laptop settled on her knees, as well as a set of black, shiny frames resting on the dip of her nose. Shaw would never tell her, but she looks more than cute in them.

Root wonders out loud why sports are so exciting to everyone but her, and Shaw makes a snide remark about how Root is too much of a vanilla nerd to ever understand the adrenaline rush that a good, well – paced run induces.

She has playful annoyance on her face when she turns to face Shaw in favor of typing an endless stream of numbers like she’s been doing for the last twenty minutes or so. 

“Touché.” Root murmurs, and adoration leaks from the corner of her eyes. Shaw grumbles and rolls her eyes. Of course Root would take a clear insult and turn it into some sort of hidden compliment.

When Root keeps staring at her, and the irritation flooding Shaw’s vein gets too much to ignore, Shaw sighs and whispers of her motivation during all her races.

She plucks a few splinters off the wooden bench and pretends she’s not pouring out her soul to her lifelong nemesis. Yes, nemesis. She hates Root, obviously.

By the end of her strangely throat – tightening recollection of vacations from almost a lifetime ago, Root has completely shut off the computer, tucked her knees underneath her, and is currently sporting a very dangerous, very ill – advised, doting expression that she should have known by now could lead to her demise.

“Shut up.” Shaw mutters and glances away, choosing instead to glare at a dirty spot on the road in front of them.

Surprisingly, Root does.

.

They’re 16 and Root is holding a drink of questionable origin and even more questionable substance in her slim, pale hand. Her palms are clammy, and the plastic cup almost slips when Shaw extends an arm and pries it off her grip. It smells like pee. Literally.

“What are you doing here?” Shaw asks over the deafening sound of screams, cheers and obnoxious music. There are lights, too, all over the place, twisting and turning as of they’re trying to make the nausea worst. Root seems slightly wobbly out of the corner of Shaw’s eyes as she throws the cup away to the closest garbage can.

“Celebrating of course!” Root exclaims and picks up from the end of a loud cheer to start her own. The room doesn’t fail to join.

Shaw rolls her eyes and grabs Root’s arm, effectively shutting her up and pulling her away from the mass gathered at the center of the yard. Root giggles, unjustified, and her hands flail around like those of an octopus.

“Jesus,” Shaw mutters, and groans, mostly because she’s the one who’s going to pay the price for Root's underage indulgence to alcohol. Finch is really, really going to give her a night long lecture once he sees her at school isn’t he? “You look like shit.”

“And you, look perfect.” Root wiggles her eyebrows as she draws the ‘r’ absolutely longer than necessary. Then she laughs, taking a step forward and laying her hands on Shaw’s shoulders. “You won Sameen,” she drawls. “Enjoy it a little.”

Shaw scoffs and pushes Root away, chugging the rest of her beer down and pointing the tip of it towards Root as she swallows. “I was enjoying myself, until you showed up.”

Root pulls off one of her worst mock – hurt expressions, and proceeds to pout. “You wound me Shaw. Be careful or one might start to think you don’t like me.”

Shaw laughs, coldly and shakes her head. “You’re not supposed to be here. Call Jason to come pick you up.”

“I’d much rather you picked me up Sameen.”

Shaw narrows her eyes and huffs, sarcastically, thinking that apparently, a drunk Root, is a ten times more flirty Root. So help her God, if she attempts to throw herself on Shaw like that time at the summer camp, someone’s going to end up with broken teeth.

“Root, I’m serious. Finch is gonna have a field trip.”

Root stares at her defiantly for a moment longer, but then she rolls her eyes and sighs dejectedly. “Fine,” she mumbles, and a smirk plays on her lips. “But you should know that you’re missing out on a whole other world of fun, Sameen.”

Shaw rolls her eyes and turns around, heading back inside. Missing out her ass. She’d be lucky if Root didn’t call her within the span of –

“Sameen!”

Shaw stops, closing her eyes, clenching her jaw and fearing fleetingly that she might break the beer bottle from the tight grip she has on it.

She turns around and forces her self not to strangle Root. She waits, glaring sternly.

After a minute, Root coughs.

“Call Jason for me? I don’t remember where my phone is Sweetie.”

Yeah, she’s sure as hell gonna kill Root someday.

.

They’re 16, and it turns out Jason isn’t prone to picking someone up. It also turns out that he isn’t prone to do so because he is at the party. Right now. Flat out cold by a couch where two horny teenagers are all over each other.

It turns out that the horny teenagers are Zoe, and John. And that Carter has left already, leaving Shaw with no choice but to –

Ugh, take Root home. With her new car. Which she was saving for a special, special feel free drive during midnight by herself.

Ugh.

.

(Finally, it turns out, that Root is really, overwhelmingly pretty when she’s leaning on Shaw’s shoulder like that. The drive isn’t that bad, and if Root notices that Shaw takes more than a few wrong turns in the hopes of extending her time in the leather seat of the Camaro, she doesn’t complain. She seems… happy. Shaw feels… satisfied. Relaxed.

Tell anyone that and she’ll kill you in your sleep.)

.

They’re 17 years old, and Shaw has just lost a major track race. It’s gone. Right out of her fingers. This year’s Nationals and the chance to climb up the scoreboard.

Her skin goes from tanned to red, and raw within a few seconds after she’s started scrubbing at it vigorously inside the showers at the locker’s room.

She doesn’t share the same showers with the rest of the girls, not because she’s a prude or anything but because the issue just underneath her belly button would surely cause completely unwelcome drama that Shaw is just too damn tired to deal with.

The water is cold, biting, and Shaw relishes every bit of it. It grounds her, helps her stay collected instead of punching at every wall in the facility like her knuckles itch to do. Even the frustration fizzles out, just a little.

But then there is a sound by the door, and Shaw’s back stiffens, immediately, one hand instinctively shooting out towards her towel and another ready for a fight.

It’s Root.

She’s smiling, almost hesitantly, and Shaw frowns, remembering that she locked the door a minute too late. 

“Did you break in here?” She asks, accusation dripping from her tongue just as water drips down the rest of her body and on the tiled floor.

“Maybe,” Root says, inching closer, as if Shaw isn’t stabbing her a million times with her eyes.

When she doesn’t get the message, or continues to blatantly ignore it for that matter, Shaw growls, throws the towel away and turns back to the stream of water.

It doesn’t help this time.

“What the fuck do you want Root?” Shaw asks, anger out and bare for Root to see.

Root lets the silence hang for a minute, probably thinking about her reply.

“You were furious, out there,” Root muttered, curiosity and a skeptical low lacing her tone. “You hit John.”

Ah yes, that had felt nice. And John had known better than to come after her. Apparently Root wasn’t as good at reading in between the lines. 

(Or maybe she was. Just too good.)

“John and I hit each other all the time.”

“No, not like this. You were angry this time, like committing murder level of angry.”

Shaw flips the switch and scoffs as the water stops flowing. “Oh I don’t know, maybe you weren’t really paying attention but I lost. In the Regionals. My only chance of hitting the Nationals. Gone. I think angry is kind of implied here, Root.”

Root shakes her head, her lips parted in that annoying smile even through this. 

“That’s not true,” she offers, gently, like talking down a child and Shaw fucking hates it when she does that. “There’s still another set of play offs, and you can give it another go, there, Sameen.”

“In Kansas,” Shaw hisses, loudly, turning around and facing Root head on, although she feels as exposed as the day she was born. “How the hell am I supposed to go to Kansas?”

Root bites her lip, but to her credit, her eyes don’t stray downwards, not once. 

“We’ll figure it out.” She states, shrugging. “Harry can lend you the money.”

Shaw laughs, because at this point, there is not much more Root can say that can be so ridiculous.

“Oh please, as if. I’m not borrowing money from a freshman college student.” Shaw walks to her locker at the far side of the corridor and opens to search for her clothes.

When she glances back at Root, she has a look on her face that indicates she might say something that Shaw could and would make her regret as soon as it left her mouth so she raises a hand before Root finds enough stupidity to actually suggest it, and shakes her head.

“I’m not borrowing money, period.”

Root sighs. “Sameen – ”

“What do you want Root?” Shaw asks, for the second time that day, but it comes out weak, more defeated now. She thought a bath would do her good but the feeling of failure is still crawling up her skin like it might suffocate her if she doesn’t shiver against it.

It’s been ages since she hasn’t been the one standing at the top of the pedestal and she’d forgotten how it was not being the one the crowds were cheering for. Her mother was right there, (probably looking for her right now), watching, as Shaw made the leap and still didn’t manage to reach the girl ahead of her, and it makes her uncomfortable.

Root was right there, watching as well, and Shaw’s less than happy with how that makes her uncomfortable, too.

“I just want you to stop hurting yourself with all those thoughts in your pretty little head.”

“I don’t do hurt. And my head is not pretty, or little.” Shaw narrows her eyes, clenching her jaw as she struggles to pull the jersey over her bra and she curses, slamming the locker closed and tearing at her knuckles in the process.

Frighteningly, she realizes she’s sulking.

And even more so, she realizes that Root is only inches away now, the distance between them slowly diminishing as Root reaches a hand out to coax Shaw’s fist loose.

Shaw is dismayed to see herself allow it.

“It’s bleeding.”

“It’s fine.” Shaw grumbles, pulling away and she finally manages to wear the dam jersey. 

Root is staring indefinitely, and with one last tug at her pants, Shaw looks up and dares the girl to challenge her.

Silence.

Good.

.

They’re 18 years old, and they are graduating. They’re 18 years old and Shaw just won the fucking Nationals. Needless to say, it’s a party back at the school.

People congratulate her everywhere she goes, and even though she tries to seem modest about it all she can’t help but feel a swell of pride and smugness. Her mom cooks her favorite meals for a week straight after she comes back, and Coach Hersh lays her off the hook.

Shaw appreciates it for the congratulations that it is.

She studies a lot, too, sometimes entertaining Root and letting her become her study partner. It’s just the good mood, that’s all.

“Don’t you dare. And don’t let it get to your head.” Shaw mutters after Root splits her face grinning like an idiot and dives in for what was surely to be a cringe worthy innuendo when Shaw proposes that they ‘lend a helping hand' to each other in Literature.

“I wouldn’t dream of it Sameen.”

.

It’s slow, subtle, sneaky. Until this day, Shaw still isn’t able to explain how it happened, exactly, but that wouldn’t be the first time.

It’s late night, pale moonlight filtering in through Shaw’s floor length window, and they’ve just finished analyzing Shakespeare when she accidentally looks down and her eyes widen at the sight of her crotch. Root is lying next to her, nose deep in some computer science nonsense book, and her leg is casually strewn across Shaw’s.

(In her defense, Shaw only let her because it was late, and Root actually helped, a lot, with her essays even though love poems and lost lovers aren’t her cup of tea either. Which is strange. Every time she looks at Shaw her face is practically screaming about a hundred different sentences that could start with ‘Roses are red, violets are blue'.

Not the innocent ones either.

Possibly something along the lines of ;

‘Roses are red, violets are blue, I’d give up my Wi-Fi for a chance to ride you.’

Nerd.)

Said leg, is also pressing down on Shaw’s, very, very sensitive member, which is now standing tall and proud against the fabric of her briefs. 

Goodness gracious, if Root catches a glimpse of –

Root sighs all of a sudden, stretching her leg and she closes her book, her hair cascading down her shoulder as she rises on her elbows and looks over at Shaw. 

“Can I crush here tonight? I’m exhausted, and you’re warm.”

Maybe there is a God above, after all, because Root’s limb is right next to her aching length and she still hasn’t bombarded her with a million different innuendos about how she’s affecting Shaw and whether she needs relief. 

‘Want me to lend a helping hand – ’

Okay, that’s way too close to fantasizing and Shaw winces as she mentally berates herself for even considering this –

“Sam.”

Root’s voice, heady and sickly sweet, travels to her ears and Shaw gulps, cursing in her mind, because Root must have bumped into her issue when Shaw winced.

“Yes?” She asks, caught in between trying to sound innocent, ignorant and stern at the same time, which makes her sound a tad ridiculous, in the end.

She’s actually delighted to see Root at a loss for words for what seems to be the first time in all the years Shaw’s known her. Root is flustered, blood painting her cheeks an intense pink that not even holy water could clean. She’s staring between Shaw’s legs, and Shaw struggles with staying still, feeling Root’s gaze creep under her skin, send heat south and her cock twitches despite itself.

“You…” Root stops, literally drags her eyes away from the offending object and glances at Shaw. “I mean – You, it’s – ”

“A boner?”

Shaw is enjoying herself way too much. Root never misses a step. She has a dozen comments to make about the silliest of topics and yet here they are, on Shaw’s bed, her bedside lamp shedding light, and Shaw can basically feel the shock written on Root’s face in her bones.

Root nods, dumbly, and Shaw laughs.

“It’s a boner Root, it happens often.”

And then she realizes her mistake. Her eyes shut tight as her words play on a loop in her mind, and she doesn’t need to open them to know that Root’s smirking like there’s no tomorrow. Shaw might have overplayed her cards, just a tad.

“Oh really, Sameen?” Root asks, and Shaw scowls as she opens her eyes and faces the devil herself. “Exactly how often do I turn you on?”

She should have known, she really should have. Her eyes widen and her eyebrows furrow when she hears the obscenity come out of Root’s mouth. Yes, obscenity.

“Get over yourself, it happens with anyone.”

Oh God, she really needs to shut her mouth.

Root laughs, out loud, her glasses falling off her face as she tilts her head back and shakes back and forth. Shaw narrows her eyes, clenches her jaw and curses, at herself, at her dick, at Root and the universe, that seems so hell-bent on ruining her life. She throws her book on the floor and sits up, her movements becoming more forceful as Root’s laughter continues and she thinks that if her mother is still awake, she’s doomed.

She reaches for the pajama pants on the floor to hide her boner, (which sucks, cause it’s hot, and uncomfortable to confine her member like that), but before she can lean down, Root has a hand on her arm, and even though Shaw tenses and tries to push her away, Root pulls her back down on the bed.

“What?” Shaw asks, tone clipped. Root must be having the time of her life. Wonderful.

“Wait,” Root stops as another giggle escapes her mouth and Shaw turns to glare daggers at her, calculating how much stealth it’d take to smother Root with a pillow. Not much, certainly. “Just – does it hurt?”

“What?”

She must have missed out on some vital part of the conversation because there’s subtle curiosity in Root’s eyes and a smile curling her lips upwards. The sentiment is not mutual. Shaw’s eyes are a kind mix of murderous intent and stirring confusion.

“Your private part Sameen,” Root rolls her eyes as if Shaw is the one asking all these ridiculous questions. Are they even on the same dimension? “Does it hurt because it’s – you know.”

Root does a vague motion with her hands that almost lands an impromptu slap on Shaw’s nose, and Shaw moves away, a scowl settled on her face.

“What – It’s not – You mean comf – ” Shaw stops and takes a breath, urging the fury in her veins to dissipate. “It’s fine.” She ends up saying, raising her hand to turn the lamp off.

Root’s stayed over enough times now that they’ve established where she sleeps and how that goes. Even if Shaw attempted to kick her off the bed, she’d recoil like a snake. And this is from experience. As long as they don’t cuddle, it’s bearable.

“What are we gonna do about it?” 

Root’s voice sounds in the room before Shaw's turned the light off and Shaw snaps her head around, shots Root an incredulous glance and points a finger at her.

“We, are doing nothing. We, are going to sleep. Unless you want to end up lying on the balcony.”

Root pouts. Shaw rolls her eyes. Turns off the light. Twists around until she’s at the corner of the bed and far away from the annoying bug that’s taken the majority of her mattress hostage. Idiot. And Shaw lets her. Even more of an idiot. Ugh.

There’s a sigh next to her. “Are you really just gonna leave it like that?”

Shaw hides her face in the pillow and bites down, hard, hoping that it might give her the mental strength she needs to refrain from murdering Root. Why her? Why now?

Nature is such a cruel bastard.

“Root.” Shaw growls more than speaks, and opens one eye to glare at the girl next to her. “What are you the dick police? It will. Go. Away. Now go to sleep before I kill you.”

“More like the dick inspector.” Root wiggles her eyebrows. Shaw stares at her blankly and proceeds to ignore her.

There’s silence after that. Shaw sighs in relief and tries to get comfortable, turning her back on Root and pretending that her dick isn’t unbelievably hard, and pulsing. Shaw tries to make it stop, use her inner chi or whatever to order it to chill, but that thing has got a brain of it’s own. She arranges her legs so they’re not close to Root’s, and finally, she feels at ease. Sleep, like breezy smoke curls around the air, and she can just about sense her eyelids droop, despite the occasional pinches of pain below her abdomen. They will eventually give up, and Shaw isn’t worried. Her mind, mostly clear of anything, shuts off, and there, she can feel her cock soften, ready to follow the rest of her body to sleep and –

“Sameen.”

Shaw outright groans at that point, clenching her fists and cursing at the edges of her pillow.

“What the hell Root?” She asks, horrified to hear the whining quality tinging her voice. It’s all Root’s fault, God damn it. She could have been sleeping right now. Her boner was at the brink of crawling back to the hole it came from and her mind was resting in peace.

Why does this woman always have to complicate everything –

“Does it hurt?”

There’s something in her inquiry this time, like Root’s actually fucking worried about her boner, and Shaw opens her eyes and flips the switch on to take a better look. 

Figures. Root’s brows are furrowed, her eyes that much more big under the harsh shadows that her lamp is casting, and Shaw huffs out a breath, her chest facing towards her.

“It’s just a boner. It’s a common thing.”

Root narrows her eyes in annoyance and Shaw shrugs, although she admits that she’s fighting a smile. 

“I know that Shaw, I had an A in biology.”

“Wow.”

“Shut up.” Root smacks her on the shoulder and Shaw laughs, wagering that it’s plausible for a bunny to have more muscle than her.

“If you do.”

Root smirks, and Shaw backtracks, thinking of what the next words coming out of the girl’s mouth could be.

“Would you rather my mouth was otherwise occupied Sam?”

She can’t help it. Her dick, as if perking up at the mere suggestion, hops back up again and Shaw flinches, barely, as her boxers feel tighter and tighter, too restrictive. Root is known for her world class innuendos, and she’s never been one to hide her attraction for Shaw, intersex or not, but this time around, her eyes are right along with her. She looks like she wants to jump Shaw, like if Shaw actually took her up on that offer, she would go through with it. 

And Shaw realizes, belatedly, that maybe she wants her to. Maybe she wants Root to attack her mouth with her lips, just as she’d done when they were fifteen, during summer camp, and back then Shaw was too proud to reciprocate. She still is. 

But she’s also hard. Incredibly hard, and hot and aching and this is such a bad, bad idea –

Root touches her. It’s like a million fireworks at once, exploding through her spine and landing south, to concentrate on the spot where Root’s palm is firmly wrapped around her cock.

She gasps, uncontrolled, and finds herself unable to do anything but stare, as Root, with a smirk on her mouth and hesitance in her eyes, inches closer, and nips at Shaw’s bottom lip.

Her mother is downstairs, sleeping, and they’re in her room, windows exposed, light turned off as Root uses her other hand to turn it off, and this is wrong for all sorts of reasons.

But hot. So hot.

But then Root does a thing with her tongue, (nothing like the sloppy kiss back then, which means Root’s been practicing and – wait what?), that gives Shaw all sorts of reasons to bite off a moan, and – that settles it.

To hell with it.

Shaw wraps a hand around Root’s waist and pulls her flush against her. She kisses back, her lips dancing against Root’s, and she lets one hand drift to over her body. As her tongue delves in the warmth if Root’s mouth, Shaw leads her hand under Root’s t – shirt. 

Root gasps, breaking off the kiss to breath, and finally, starts moving her hand, pulling Shaw’s cock away from the briefs, and caressing from bottom to top.

Fuck.

Shaw sees stars, literally. She seeks Root’s mouth out, and makes sure to thoroughly explore with her tongue before finding a soft, delicate breast with her hands.

She rolls a nipple between her fingers and Root rewards her with the most pornographic moan Shaw’s ever had the pleasure of hearing, and it makes her that much closer to coming.

Then, before she knows it, Root’s moving her mouth downwards and as her mouth touches the tip, licking at it like an expert, Shaw forgets how to breath, and along with that, all the doubts she ever had.

.

“Sam, you ready?”

Shaw's sparing her room one last glance, thinking that she might have forgotten something, (definitely not cherishing the sight, nope), when her mom’s words echo through the house, and her empty room.

Shaw picks up her suitcase and sprints down the stairs.

When she approaches her mother at the door, Ahmira has moisture in her eyes. “What have I told you about being punctual?”

Shaw rolls her eyes and exits the door. She figures there must be something she’s supposed to say, right now, a feeling she’s supposed to tap into, but her mind draws blanks, and Shaw just stands there, on the porch of her house, trying to find a way to say goodbye.

Ahmira beats her to it.

She doesn’t hug her, but she leans in, placing something in Shaw’s palm, and whispers, her voice breaking at the corners, “I’m so proud of you, Sameen. He would have been too.”

Shaw leaves her with a kiss and she doesn’t look back. Later, when she looks at the weight on her hand, she realizes it’s her first medal, and the only one her father had lived another day to see her win. She’d been looking for it.

Shaw smiles, unrestrained, and shakes her head. That woman.

“All good?”

A hand reaches out to pull some hair out of her face and Shaw leans in, indulging her, even for a second.

“Yeah Root.” She turns to look at her then, with a hand on the steering wheel and another resting at the console between them. Root grins, her eyebrows tugging down in a question Shaw has no intention of answering. Not yet at least. Besides, they’re living the university life soon. They have all the time in the world.

“All is great.”

.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
